Replies

"We now have an email address and opportunity to write to Michael Schiavo and tell him what the true meaning is of the sanctitiy of marriage and God."

I'll write to him here. Hi, Mikey!

Dear Mikey-poo,

Hi. I'm writing you here because it's not my custom to give hits to websites run by mincing primpers. Besides, would I want you to have my email address after the way your kin acted on the air?

Mighty impressive website you've got there, sonny boy. Did you design it yourself? I wonder. One thing seemed to be lacking. PACS have boards of directors, boards of advisors, etc. Where's yours? So far it's just Chairman Mike. Some PAC. As far as anyone can tell, it's just one guy with $8.00.

Mikey, did you notice how little time it took to find out who is really backing you up? Hardly any time at all.

"A closer look at the domain registration for TerriPAC.com shows the site is registered to NovemberGroup.net, a group that bills itself as a "full-service progressive campaign management, political consulting and project coordination company." Translation, Democrat fundraising organization. It's run by Democrat campaign veteran, Derek Newton."

How about that. You're being managed, consulted and coordinated by a veteran campaigner. A fundraiser. I think you only exist there as a picture and a name. It's happened to you again, Mikey.

What's happened? Look, Mikey, we all know you when changed your tune from wanting to keep Terri alive to wanting to dehydrate her. We all saw you on Nightline - how you fumbled over the most simple questions, and that your little shyster had to jump in and answer everything for you lest you verbally shoot yourself in the foot. It was obvious your couldn't figure out how to speak for yourself; obvious who was trying to speak through you, and obvious why. It was also obvious you don't have what it takes to do a PAC. And sure enough, behind your website is a professional consulting group, headed by a "Democrat campaign veteran".

Mikey, son, listen. Being turned into a fraud is worse than being one. You're not there at all. You're just a front -- you're used. Your rage has led to to become something very sad -- a professional puppet. A puppet just dragged out and danced around to further someone else's agenda; not necessarily yours or to your benefit. And when next year's new model puppet comes along, you'll be thrown in the trash like all the other puppets are after they've been used up. What a tool!

So that's how you'll be remembered, Mike. It'll be your legacy. Never your own man, just Mikey the Professional Puppet. But go ahead - this is your choice, and you know what your future is. So dance, Mikey, dance. Dance your little jerky, floppy marionette dance that someone has told you will make you important. Take pleasure knowing that by letting all the attention you get feed your vanity you have served someone else's purpose. Take pleasure knowing that behind your back they're chuckling about your usefulness for their purposes; and that you don't know that they only see you in terms of usefulness. Dance, Puppet, Dance!